What day is it today?Have I washed the kids’ uniforms?What should I cook for lunch?When will my Tesco order arrive?Do the kids have any glue stick left?Why does my left wrist hurt?When is my next doctor’s appointment?
But that’s about it most days. Just random thoughts that ebb and flow from one to another without great consequence in the grand scheme of things. Neither fun nor depressive; only mundane.
Most days, I am kept busy with the house and the kids. Freelance work has also been taking up quite a bit of mind-space of late so that’s been a welcomed escape from the humdrum of SAHM life. Usually, this is enough to take me from Wake to Sleep without break or rest.
But there are days when
this one evil thought rears it ugly head.
When the dishes are piled high in the sink, when the laundry is yet to be done, when the trash hasn’t been taken out, when I can’t see my dining table under all the home-learning mess, when the kids misbehave, when relationships sour, when Me Time is scarce… it’s there.
“What is the point?”
What is the point of it all? What is the point of being alive? What is the point of surviving cancer only to be faced with an overflowing kitchen sink every single day? What is the point of living if all there is in store for me is to be a slave to everyone else around me? What is the point of persisting if all there is to look forward to is punishment?
And just as I think it, I chastise myself for it.
How could I even think such a thing?? How dare I!
After all that has been done to keep me from death.
All the money spent – hundreds of thousands in surgery, treatment and follow-up costs. All the people inconvenienced – to cook and clean and help with the kids during my downtime. All that time lost – especially with my growing-up children whose childhoods feel nearly over. All the prayers prayed – so many of them whispered, yet answered all the same.
It stabs me with such guilt that it tears me up inside and stops me in my tracks, rendering me unable to move forward without attempting (sometimes in vain) to silence the thought and beg the Lord for forgiveness.
It instantly makes me feel like I’m the most ungrateful person on the planet – ungrateful for the life that I’ve been so fortunate to have. For the extension of Life itself that I am so blessed to be given in spite of the tribulations I’ve been through, and the challenges I still endure, and the trials I have yet to face.
Unfortunately, if I'm being honest,
it isn't just once that I've thought it. 😔
When life gets hard and everything seems to be going wrong, it comes knocking at the corners of my mind. More frequently than I’d like these days, no thanks to the lack of pleasantly distracting activities and socially rewarding outlets due to the return of MCO 3.0.
Perhaps all this negativity will stop when lockdown eases and normalcy resumes. Maybe I'll stop thinking this way when my world goes back to being bigger than the confines of my home. I guess a visit to the mall for some window-shopping will help, too. Oh, and I know good food and easy chit-chat in the company of friends definitely will.
But deep in my heart, I know, I know, I know that at the end of the day, the problem boils down to this: I'm asking the wrong question. So, the only way to stop this crippling guilt and depressing spiral is to change the question altogether. And if I get the question right, it'll all be alright.
Stop asking, "What is the point?"
Start asking, "What is my purpose?"
2 comments :
I love this post Pam.. Your purpose is to inspire people. Those stricken, those who survived and those who were left behind. Continue fighting, lots of people love you. :)
ATTN: Clark
– Thanks for the encouragement, Clark. ❤️ I really feel like my diagnosis has become my ministry and I do hope to somehow make a small difference in this community. If I can make even one survivor feel less alone in their journey, I would have served my purpose and my suffering has not been in vain.
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